Welcome to the Badlands
by katierosefun
Summary: Fifteen mini-stories focused on the desperate nature of the Clone Wars. Greed for power, for love, for wealth, for companionship, for home…welcome to the Badlands. One does not tread there lightly. [Badlands six - "feet first, don't fall."]
1. Patriarchy

Hello, everyone - it's me, katierosefun, aka Caroline. And let me just start off by saying that I started this story last night (around eight o'clock PM?) and didn't stop writing until it was nearly one in the morning. I'm halfway finished with this story - and essentially, I wrote over 6K words in one. Sitting. Which was pretty awesome - but when I woke up this morning, the lack of sleep and the energy I used up while writing just totally crashed into me. Oops.

After listening to Halsey's album _Badlands_ (and reading the analysis on all of its themes), I just couldn't help but to extend that analysis into a story. I highly recommend listening to Halsey's albums ( _Room 93_ and _Badlands_ ) - they're incredibly fresh for this age. However, listening to _Badlands_ is not vital to this story - you can read this with/without knowing what those songs are.

Just a quick heads-up - while this story won't have any too-dark/too-explicit themes in this story, I feel like it'll be one of my heavier ones. I know I like to play around with all of the really cute, lighthearted aspects of _The Clone Wars,_ but for today, I want to try something new.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _Badlands one._

 _Patriarchy_

 _("and there's an old man sitting on a throne telling me I should keep my pretty mouth shut")_

Ahsoka Tano didn't expect too many visitors. Besides that one time Anakin and Padmé came, there was relatively no one. She thought she caught a glimpse of Rex lingering around her cell once or twice, though he was never able to make any gestures of acknowledgement. Ahsoka tried not to resent that too much – she knew that he was in a terrible situation. ( _But then again, so was she. So was everyone_.)

And Ahsoka wouldn't see Barriss – she probably wouldn't be allowed to talk to her, which didn't help Ahsoka with matters of loneliness. She longed to at least catch a word or two of encouragement from her friend…or at least deliver a proper goodbye.

Even _Ventress_ coming to Ahsoka's cell would be a welcoming sight. Ironically enough, that harpy had been more help to Ahsoka than most members of the Order. ( _Ha. Fracking. Ha_.) But it wasn't like Ventress would actually come – she was probably tied up in her own problems.

Not even Master Kenobi or Master Plo were coming to see Ahsoka, which rubbed her in all the wrong ways. She didn't know Master Kenobi as well as she did with Anakin, but…she had thought that they at least knew each other enough to at least see each other before the Senate's ruling. And Master _Plo_ – out of _everyone_ Ahsoka knew, she thought _he_ would at least come to see how Ahsoka was doing.

"Tano."

Ahsoka's head jerked up. She narrowed her eyes past the dim, red lighting of lasers keeping her inside the cell. Even despite the angry glow, Ahsoka could recognize _that_ face anywhere.

How could she forget it, anyways? She had only scowled at it hundreds – if not thousands – of times.

"Tarkin." Ahsoka's lips curled into an annoyed scowl. She didn't bother keeping out the indignant tones from her voice – out of all people, he should probably know how _angry_ she was at the situation. "What are _you_ here for?"

"I'm to make sure you aren't up to any of your old tricks," Tarkin replied, a cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Only natural, you see, especially since your last escape took down a few men."

"I didn't _take down_ any men," Ahsoka replied, standing up. "I might have knocked them out – but I didn't _kill_ anyone."

"You inflicted some injuries on the very same men who you used to work with. I'm sure they don't care if you killed them or not."

At this bit of news, Ahsoka felt guilt settle into her stomach. She hadn't meant to hurt anyone – really, she hadn't – she just needed to get _out_ of her cell. Find an answer for herself.

 _Still…_

 _He's getting to your head,_ a voice hissed from the back of Ahsoka's mind. _Don't listen to him. He's trying to make you feel small._

Feel small. That was one thing Ahsoka couldn't stand. When she was a youngling, she hated being one of the weaker ones in her class – in her weaker subjects, she'd force herself to practice and practice and practice until she was scrambling at the top. When she's with Anakin – when she _was_ Anakin's Padawan, that is – she would try her best to show everyone that she wasn't a little girl anymore. When she was out on the battlefield, she was always sure to be out on the front lines, defending everyone from whatever was coming their way. She was so careful – _so sure –_ to _never_ let anyone see her as petty.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Ahsoka's voice was terse. She tried to keep her form relaxed.

"I don't think a simple apology would matter – especially after your fate's decided," Tarkin said dismissively.

"Huh," Ahsoka snorted. "I always _knew_ you were the type of person to get dramatic. 'After my fate's decided' – I didn't think anyone else said that on Coruscant."

Tarkin clasped his hands behind his back. "You're foolish attempts to make the situation lighter for yourself are futile," he told Ahsoka coolly. "Pity. I thought a Jedi commander like yourself would put up a better fight."

"In case you didn't notice, I'm a bit limited," Ahsoka replied flatly. She sat down on the bench in her cell, arms crossed defiantly over her chest. "And just so you know, I think _your_ attempts at trying to get under _my_ skin are pretty weak, too." She pretended to examine her nails. "Yeah. I noticed that."

Tarkin waved away Ahsoka's comment. "No one will be able to help you," he whispered. "No one is coming for you. Surely, you know that by now – or are you still clinging onto a bit of hope that somehow, you'll get out of this alive?"

Ahsoka looked up from her nails. Unruffled, she replied almost sweetly, "Tell me, Tarkin – were you always this cheerful?"

"You're avoiding the question," Tarkin smiled again. "Because you already know the answer."

Ahsoka stood up to her feet. Walking to the front of her cell, she jabbed a finger at Tarkin's direction.

" _No,_ " she replied harshly. " _No_ – that's just what _you_ want to think. Do you want to know why I'm avoiding your question?" When Tarkin didn't answer instantly, she repeated, " _Do you?_ "

"It appears I don't have a choice."

Ahsoka dropped her hand. "I'm avoiding the question because _I_ don't want to waste my time on someone like _you_ ," she spat out. She would spit at Tarkin if she could. If he got into her cell. Ahsoka would spit right there – right at the side of his cheek, where the muscles under his face would bob up every time his lips curled into his trademark smirk.

"You think you're being clever," Tarkin said coldly. "You think you have the upper hand."

 _No, I'm just bluffing,_ Ahsoka thought to herself. But she had to keep up the show – she had to keep being poised.

"So what if I do?" Ahsoka shot back. " _Someone_ has to be on the winning side. Sadly, Tarkin, it's not you." She headed back towards the end of her cell. She let the rest of her words slip out of her lips. "Hate to break it to you, but it never _was_ you – and I doubt it never will be."

There. She said it – words she had been keeping in for so long.

And _there –_ Ahsoka heard the rays dissolve and then close up again.

Ahsoka turned around just in time to see Tarkin stop directly in front of her. He was taller than her by a few inches. He had always tried to make a point of that even before Ahsoka was framed for the bombing – and it had always bothered her to no end. It wasn't even like Ahsoka disliked her height in general. For example, whenever she was standing next to Anakin or Master Kenobi or even Barriss, she never felt small. She never felt insignificant or suffocated.

But Tarkin always made a point of trying to make himself tower over Ahsoka. It was his profile, she thought. Or his nose. Or maybe just the way his eyes made a point of looking down at her whenever they were up close.

Tarkin's hand shot out and grabbed Ahsoka's chin. She stiffened. It had been a classic move on Tarkin's part – only she wasn't expecting it to happen again.

"I suggest you keep your silly mouth _shut_ ," Tarkin seethed, his colorless eyes narrowed. Ahsoka couldn't see her own reflection in his eyes. She felt a shiver run up her spine as Tarkin's fingers rubbed just a little from underneath her chin. His fingers felt cold. His nails were little cuticles of ice. "You're nothing now – and you will _remain_ that way, just like every other stupid girl who thought she could have actual _power_ or _freedom._ "

Ahsoka bristled. She yanked her chin away from Tarkin, walking back a few steps. She was breathing hard, trying to get rid of the feeling of Tarkin's fingers still on her face. She would rub it off with acid if she could.

"Every other stupid girl?" Ahsoka asked, her voice low. She bared her teeth. "You think girls are stupid? You think girls are weak?" She could feel her hands curling and uncurling with anger. "Girls are made with fire – _all_ girls." She took a few steps up to Tarkin, not even caring if he would stand over her. ( _Ahsoka_ would tower over him. She'd have to. She'd _always_ have to scramble to the top – practice and practice and practice until she was finally where she was supposed to be.)

" _This_ stupid, silly girl happened to have gone through _years_ of training and discipline," Ahsoka hissed. " _This_ stupid, silly girl happened to get into a top-secret mission and deliver a dying Jedi General's message – I _know_ that bothered you." She didn't miss the way Tarkin seemed to flinch. Fueled by this, Ahsoka continued furiously, " _This_ stupid, silly girl happened to be _beaten, bruised, interrogated, burned, poisoned,_ and gone through every _ridiculous_ and _dangerous_ situation there ever was. _This_ stupid, silly girl happened to have grown and matured under the heels of people who were already born at the top." She jabbed a finger at Tarkin's chest. He took a half-step back.

"And _this_ stupid, silly girl," Ahsoka whispered, smiling, "happens to be absolutely _done_ with whatever _you,_ a bumbling, old man – has to say."

With that, Ahsoka stepped away. She walked to the end of her cell and faced the wall. She could feel Tarkin's energy radiating off of him, coming in waves of simmering red and orange.

And then she heard his footsteps going up the steps – and then there was the faint buzz of the lasers – and finally, Tarkin's words were blocked out.

For the first time that day, Ahsoka allowed herself a real smile.

Who knows? She might be going to her grave – she might become one with the Force – but right now, she felt victorious.

* * *

 **A/N -** In case you couldn't tell, this was what I thought would be a deleted scene in the season finale arc between Tarkin and Ahsoka. Obviously, Tarkin's kind of the love-to-hate (or...just plain hate) character of the fandom. I thought it was fitting to embody Tarkin as a symbol of patriarchy, since he's always seemed to have this weird habit of looking down on powerful women. (E.g. Ahsoka, Leia...)

Of course, not all men are extremely patriarchal or selfish or patronizing - but I thought it was still important to point out that despite the fact that there's been many changes in history, there's still a somewhat patriarchal element in our world today. It might not be as outright or as blatant as women not being allowed to vote/go to school - but patriarchal society is shown in cases of sexual assault, power play...even most school dress-codes. (Because girls must cover their shoulders and wear pants/skirts up to their knees because we must not tempt boys. Instead of just teaching boys to control themselves, it's the girls who are taught to cower before them.)

But at the end of the day, no matter what people says, patriarchy is just like Tarkin - a slimy, annoying bastard who in the ultimate end, doesn't get remembered for anything except being an asshole.

Reviews are always nice! Constructive criticism is alright - but flames are not! (And please, if there's any negative comments, at least let them be about the story's content, not so much on my personal opinions.)


	2. Power

Hey, you guys! It's me again - and _yes,_ Thanksgiving break is here, which means that I can pig out to food and kick back to get some writing done. (And reading. I got two new books today - _A Court of Thorns and Roses_ by Sarah J. Maas and _To All the Boys I've Loved Before_ by Jenny Han. I'm really pumped to read both books - not to mention that _To All the Boys I've Loved Before_ has a Korean protagonist, so...*pumps arms* _Yes for representation!_ )

This chapter takes place briefly after _The Phantom Menace,_ I think - but you don't really need to know a lot about the movies to understand this chapter. Just know that in this chapter, Senator Amidala is still pretty new to the Senate...and just like any woman in power, there's always going to be lots of speculation around her viability. Enjoy!

* * *

 _Badlands two._

 _Power_

 _("they shush me")_

Padmé Amidala was one of the dangerous ones, and though not everyone caught onto it, she knew it the moment she decided she was going to be a senator instead of a queen.

She wasn't sure what had originally compelled her into taking such drastic measures in politics. All she knew was that she couldn't tolerate being waited on by hand and foot – she couldn't stay in a suffocating palace for too long – and she most certainly couldn't be expected to make decisions in a place where words were chosen for her.

So perhaps being a senator was the brightest move she had ever made. It had certainly come with its disadvantages – the constant busy schedule, the death threats, the competitiveness…

But Padmé knew this was the best chance she would get at speaking for herself.

She thought of this now as she stood before Senator Gume Saam. She wasn't sure why she bothered to see him in the first place – he had been the one to call together a private meeting with her in the first place, claiming that he would like to become "a guiding hand for such a new senator."

Even at a young age, Padmé most certainly wasn't a fool. She knew when there was someone who wanted something from her – and she knew when someone had ulterior motives to any plan.

But still, Padmé was careful to keep her face a cool mask. She couldn't afford showing what she was truly feeling – that much was the game of politics. (And lying.)

Padmé could see herself in Senator Saam's eyes – a young, innocent, bright-faced woman with hands tucked over her lap and curls spun into a ridiculous up-do. No one would suspect the way Padmé's brain was in constant motion – calculating, strategizing, and looking for the best way to counteract on whatever someone had in store for her…

Well. Padmé's mother always _did_ tell her to use all of her gifts – and if looking innocent was one of them, then she figured she had that particular gift down just fine.

"You gave an impressive speech about Naboo's standing with the Republic today," Senator Saam said, pouring Padmé a glass of rich, dark red liquid. She had no doubt it was wine – and though she smiled when she took it, she didn't bother drinking from the glass. She only ever bothered to drink around people she truly trusted and cared about – and frankly, Senator Saam didn't seem to be the type to make it on that particular list anytime soon.

"Thank you," Padmé replied warmly. "It means much to hear that."

"I would think so," Senator Saam smiled. It reminded Padmé a little of the time she saw Watto smile – with eyes cold and narrowed and lips stretched into a haughty, thin line.

A shudder ran through Padmé's spine. She adjusted her fingers over the glass, her own smile – her own shield – guarded over her face. "I apologize for being so blunt," she said delicately, "but you called me here for a private meeting – is there something you would like to discuss with me?"

"Besides your obvious skills in making public speeches?" Senator Saam asked. His words were light, but Padmé could sense danger simmering in his voice. She felt her heart jump in speed just a few notches, but she let her shoulders relax.

 _Calm._

She must look calm.

Padmé let out a quiet laugh. "Besides that, I would hope."

"How quick you are to get to the point," Senator Saam observed, taking a sip from his glass.

Padmé slowly set down her glass on the table sitting between them. "I would hope I'd be," she replied, choosing her next words with care. "If I am ever to make a true difference, I would think it's necessary for me to get to the point with precision."

"Spoken like a true politician." There was something gleaming in Senator Saam's eyes now, though Padmé couldn't decipher what it was. She shifted a little in her seat.

Senator Saam set his wine glass down. "Well, Senator," he said – Padmé didn't miss the way his voice seemed to hurry over the word _senator_ (as though he didn't want it to be addressed. As though the title alone didn't seem to make too much of a difference). – "I called you here to discuss what your next moves might be."

Padmé furrowed her brow. "I made my points in my speech just a few hours ago," she said slowly.

"Oh, I know about _that,_ " Senator Saam said, shaking his head. "You misunderstood me – I meant I wanted to discuss what your next moves would be if you were to…change your mind."

Padmé felt something in her stomach grow cold. She was grateful she hadn't drunk anything from that wine glass. "Change my mind," she repeated emotionlessly.

"Yes," Senator Saam replied. "You see, I am aligned with the Separatists –"

"I know."

Senator Saam smiled again. (The same Watto smile.) "And I couldn't help but to notice that you wish to align yourself with the Republic. And to be honest, Senator…" The senator sat down directly next to Padmé – and though he was a respectable distance away from her, she couldn't help but to brace herself. "I thought – well, it must be because you're young…and inexperienced that you would come down to make such a decision."

Padmé didn't like where this was going. Still, she locked her eyes onto Senator Saam's, her voice frigid.

"You called me here so I could change my allegiance."

"Would that be so bad?" Senator Saam asked, his eyebrows lifting. "The Separatists have made some excellent points, you know."

"The Separatists see wealth and money as the true governors and leaders," Padmé replied. "And with all due respect, Senator Saam, I see no appeal in that." She stood up. "Now, I think I'll be taking my leave. I have much more to prepare and plan."

She only just got away from the couch before Senator Saam called after her, "You are still a child compared to the rest of us, _Senator._ You have much to learn – much to experience. I wouldn't expect so much from the Republic at such an early time."

Padmé was getting closer to the door now. Not looking back, she said over her shoulder, "You wish to quiet me. You wish to undermine the authority I have over my own planet. If those are the ideals of a Separatist such as yourself, well…" She reached the door. As the metal slid open, she finished with some satisfaction, "I think my expectations of the Separatists at such an early time like this have already started out at a low point."

There was silence from Senator Saam's end.

 _Good._

"Goodnight," Padmé added over her shoulder, not really meaning it. "And oh – thank you for your suggestion, but my stance remains as sure as ever."

 _Spoken like a true politician,_ Padmé thought smugly to herself as she headed down to her own apartment.

* * *

 **A/N -** I felt that I wasn't really playing too much on the whole role of patriarchy in this chapter (though there are definite hints at it) - but more so on the whole obsession of power. After taking note of Padmé's actions (and the actions of many other female politicians/in seats of power today), I figured that she would have to fight a little harder for people to start taking her seriously. I mean, there was that whole thing where she was really young and seen as more of a figurehead than an actual ruler - so I thought it would make sense to see her own little struggle for power. (And by power, I mean the good kind of power. The authority kind of power. Not the "I'm the only one you have to listen to because I'll kill you otherwise" type of power.)

And just so you guys know, this story won't just be focusing on women - because while women are extremely important in _The Clone Wars_ (which is so _fantastic_ ), my plan for this story was to point out the 'badlands' of war - not just the struggles women face. (Though those two points can totally co-exist and cross multiple paths.) The next chapter will be focusing more on Rex's character, too, so...I'm kinda looking forward to that aspect of the story.

As always, reviews are great! Constructive criticism is tolerable, but flames are not! (And for my fellow Americans, happy Thanksgiving!)


	3. Abandonment

I may or may not be drowning in homework right now (I have _two essays in English due next week - someone please kill me now_ , along with an AP World History presentation - _again, someone please kill me now; we only have three days to put together a costume, write up a paper, and get ready for a debate_ \- an Algebra II/Trig test to study for - _LIMITS LIMITS LIMITS WHY_ , and more) - but I decided to take a deep breath and a few steps back.

So. Enjoy!

* * *

 _Badlands three._

 _Abandonment_

 _("the city's ours until the fall")_

Rex didn't mind kids. Not really. As long as they kept to themselves and didn't cause trouble, then he found them just fine.

He did _not_ , however, like them when they were running away from him to avoid discipline.

Because those kids needed just that. Discipline.

Rex had been hearing news of how there were children spraying paint all over the walls of public buildings, not only causing grief for the owners of the buildings, but also for the people who had to clean it up later. (Mostly droids, yes, but there had to be people to _monitor_ those droids – and frankly, the money for those droids could be used elsewhere.) Rex had been feeling a bit annoyed about being sent on patrolling and (technical) baby-sitting duty over something as silly as this, too, but he had been told that _someone_ needed to get the job done – "and besides, you've been around kids before. You'll set them straight."

But _dammit_ , these kids were _fast_.

Rex had found them standing in the shadow of one of the more expensive apartment complexes. Rex didn't even know how the kids were able to get to the apartment complexes without getting caught in the first place. For one, the people who _lived_ in those apartments were stinking rich – practically rolling around in credits – and always dressed as though they were about to go on a special occasion. They were the type of people who never had a speck of grime or soot on their pods (which was practically impossible, since they lived on _Coruscant,_ for kriffin' sake). They were the type of people with children who looked like little plastic dolls. They were the type of people who pretended to look superior and poised when going in public but would end up getting drunk in their own private bars at four in the morning. (And probably having some kind of drunken affair. Rex always saw the look the shinies had on their faces after their first few days of guarding those apartment complexes. Most of the time, it was disbelief – sometimes amusement – but most commonly, it was annoyance. And Rex couldn't find it in himself to blame them. There were times he felt pretty tempted to throw down his helmet in front of those people, too.)

These kids – _these kids_ – wouldn't have _ever_ fit into this kind of neighborhood.

There were three of them – one boy and two girls. The boy had black hair, cropped short around the sides and long at the front. He had small, practically black eyes and wore clothes dirtied with weeks – maybe months and years – of living on the streets. And despite all that, he carried an air of superiority around himself, as though he was the prince of the street urchins.

One of the girls had ashy blonde hair tied back in a set of pigtails. She wore a pair of taped-up glasses, and though she was incredibly small, she, too, had a fiery look about her. Her knees were scraped – her hands were wrapped up in bandages, some new and others old – and her voice was shrill even from a few feet away.

The next girl had a curious set of brown eyes, luminous and glinting from underneath the shadows. Her skin was brown and wrinkled – and only after a few minutes of watching her, Rex figured that she was Dressellian – or maybe half. She certainly had the general appearance of one, but her body type and the hair growing from her head showed different traits.

The three were all carrying bottles of spray paint, scrawling angry messages over the metal and laughing quietly amongst themselves.

"This'll _really_ piss them off, don't you think, Levi?" the blonde asked the black-haired boy.

The black-haired boy – Levi, Rex assumed – only smiled slightly. "Don't get cocky," was his only response. "You know the drill – leave your message and then we'll go. And this time, Saoirse, try not to make your message _too_ long. No more than three words this time."

Saoirse tsked. "I can't help it," she said cheerfully, shaking the spray paint can recklessly in her hand. "Liberty needs to be spoken in many words."

"Or it can be spoken in few," the Dressellian-esque girl piped up. "There are many ways to get a point across. And besides, I think shorter messages are easier to remember."

"Azadeh, you're _always_ taking his side!" Saoirse sighed dramatically. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were crushing on him."

At this, both Levi and Azadeh started to protest – only Saoirse held up her paint-colored palms, laughing, "Relax, you two! I'm only teasing!" She paused. "Wait a second – but _are you guys_ –"

"Let's just get this done," Levi said hastily, picking up the other spray paint cans. "Come on, Saoirse – stop wasting time!"

Before Saoirse could say anything, Rex called after them, " _Hey!_ You three!"

The spray paint can tumbled out of Saoirse' hand in shock.

" _Again?_ " Azadeh said incredulously.

"No time – move, move, move!" Levi shouted, pushing both Azadeh and Saoirse ahead of him. Rex faltered a little, watching with some admiration (and surprise) at the sudden protectiveness the boy had over his friends. The three children tumbled down the streets, their legs pumping quickly underneath them and their arms flailing.

"Hey!" Rex called again, running after them. " _I'm not going to_ – dammit, I just need to talk to you three!"

"Saoirse! Don't look back!" Azadeh screamed at the blonde, who was starting to turn her head. Azadeh took Saoirse's hand and yanked her along, not once turning to see if Rex was still chasing them. (He was.)

The four of them kept running – the kids obviously knew their way around the streets, taking sudden turns and jumping up on speeders at the right moment. They were good – _really_ good, moving swiftly and gracefully. Levi was a blur of black and white, while Saoirse mimicked the movements of an insect – wild and with out-of-control limbs, but somehow able to land perfectly on her feet. Azadeh, on the other hand, wasn't quite as fast as Saoirse or Levi, but she took the right shortcuts, always being the one to shout out the best directions.

If Rex didn't know Coruscant himself, those kids would have definitely gotten away.

Only Rex _did_ know the city.

And the kids didn't know that.

He saw the sign of the sector first – he was coming closer to a certain shortcut. Levi, Azadeh, and Saoirse were still speeding ahead of him, kicking up as much dust as they possibly could. Rex almost felt like laughing – they were so frantic, so careful…

Rex fell back into an alley. He vaguely remembered how this one particular alley was connected to multiple other streets – and if he was remembering correctly, this alley would be the key to getting ahead of the kids. It was a simple surprise attack tactic – and it felt a bit cheap, seeing that Rex was just using it on a bunch of pesky kids, but still. He had to do what he had to do, even if it was as small as something as this.

Rex ducked through other pedestrians, shoving past them and only barely muttering his apologies as they stumbled away from him. If he ran a bit faster, he could probably make it – unless Azadeh suddenly thought of a different route to avoiding him.

He would have to get there first.

Rex came short of a ladder. He stopped in front of it for a second – and after a quick calculation, he started to scramble up its rungs. He pushed himself forwards, climbing higher and higher until he was standing on the roof of an apartment complex.

Rex took a quick sweep of the city below him – and then, finally, he spotted them. They were coming quickly, totally unaware that Rex was standing almost directly on top of them.

He scrambled down the opposite ladder – and landed promptly in front of Levi.

Almost instantly, the boy crashed into his armor, Azadeh and Saoirse coming shortly after. The two girls let out a sharp cry of surprise and pain as they hit the ground. Levi was already starting to scramble up to his feet, grabbing Azadeh and Saoirse by the wrists – only this time, it was Rex who was too quick for them.

"Alright, you three," Rex said sternly, grabbing them by the collars. "Now, I'm not looking for trouble – I just want to talk."

"Yeah, right!" Saoirse snapped, struggling under Rex's grip.

"Let us go!" Azadeh spat, her hands balled into fists. "Let – us –"

Rex pressed down a sigh. Hoisting them all over his shoulders, he walked off to the side of a building. He was attracting some attention now – people were stopping on the streets, staring at Rex strangely.

"It's all under control," he said, lifting a hand. "Nothing's wrong."

"Damn right, there's something wrong!" Saoirse shrieked, pounding her fists against Rex's back. " _Help! He's kidnapping us! He's kidnapping us! Someone, call for_ –"

Rex actually sighed this time. He set the three kids against the building, towering over them. Almost instantly, they started to disperse – but this time, Rex pushed them against the building again, leaving them absolutely powerless against his strength.

"Listen – _listen_ ," he said, this time sounding a little more desperate. "I'm not trying to hurt you guys – I just wanted to tell you three to stop painting on the kriffin' _walls._ It's been getting on a lot of citizens' nerves – and it's been causing trouble."

"So?" Levi asked sullenly. "I don't see why we should care."

"This is Coruscant, kid," Rex replied, annoyed. "And more specifically, you were painting on the walls of some pretty important peoples' apartments. Do it somewhere else – do it in a place that might be able to tolerate your little drawings – or just don't do it at all."

Levi barked out a laugh. "Sorry to break it to you…what are you? A commander? A captain?" He waved his hands. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. You guys all look the same to me."

Rex automatically felt something defensive kick up in his chest – but Levi didn't seem to notice. He continued, "Those rich folks? Them and us?" He snorted. "They don't care. They didn't care about the way we were living – so we don't care about the way they're living. And besides…" He picked up a spray paint can. Shaking it in front of Rex's face, he said, "I think they can tolerate a little bit of dirt on their perfect world." His lips curled into a bitter scowl. "God knows they're good at getting themselves dirty, anyways."

"You…still can't paint on their walls."

"Why not?" This time, it was Saoirse who spoke. Her grey eyes were flashing angrily from the metal around her. "We're kids. We're poor. We're not even legal to get a real job or anything. Technically, we should have been given to a foster home – or set into some system that protects kids – but instead, we're here, aren't we? We have to look after ourselves – we have to feed ourselves, clothe ourselves, try to make a living for ourselves…meanwhile, all of those rich people get to live cushy, comfortable lives without sparing a single _thought_ for the kids – and for the families – who've been abandoned to their wealth. After all of that, I think they can at _least_ tolerate a few messages on their walls."

Rex stared. He let his eyes linger on each of them – at Levi's suddenly too-pinched, pale cheeks – at the bandages crumbling around Saoirse's hands – at the sparse hair growing on Azadeh's head.

He had seen poverty before – that much was inevitable. It was everywhere. Even if you were blind, you'd see it. You'd hear it. You'd smell it.

"What do you three even write?" Rex asked. "I…didn't get to see."

"Simple things," Azadeh replied softly. "Painful things. Things that could make them guilty."

"Like?"

" _Remember us,_ " the three chorused.

At this, something got caught in Rex's throat.

"Remember us," he repeated.

"Remember us," Azadeh said quietly. "Remember the ones who weren't born into comfortable lives. Remember the majority of us – remember us, who are making up the new generation. Remember us, the generation that's already being forced to crush themselves underneath the feet and will of the rich."

The three children stared up at Rex, the old spark of denial lighting up in their eyes again – as though daring him to say something.

So he did.

"Hand me a can," Rex said simply.

The children blinked up at him, surprised.

"Why?" Levi asked suspiciously.

"Just give it."

It was Azadeh who finally let Rex have a spray paint can.

And then the four were walking back to the rich apartment complexes.

Wordlessly, they all wrote two words.

 _Remember us._

* * *

 **A/N -** Because it was asked - the last two chapters were based off the songs _Castle_ and _Hold Me Down_ \- this one is based off of _New Americana_. (Just look up the Badlands album and go through the sequence of the songs. That should give a proper idea of what order I'm going in.)

I'm not going to lie, you guys - I'm going through a really tough time with school and track practice (yes, Caroline has decided to join a sport! And pretend to be a Jedi in the process! (And epically failing. But whatever, it's the attitude that counts, right?) and just life problems in general. I've been trying really hard to push certain toxic people out of my life (it's proving to be a lot harder than I thought it'd be) and also trying to fit in the expectations of others. (Again, going back to school problems and friend issues and teachers and family.)

Basically, it's all a lot and I feel like _here_ is where I can fully breathe without feeling like someone's about to punch me in the stomach. So. That's probably going to be why I'll be struggling to sound super excited/happy/cheerful in my notes - because really, I'm not too cheerful about the direction my life is heading. All I can ask of you guys is to please be patient with me and see this as just another hurdle I'll have to jump over.

As always, reviews are (greatly, greatly, _greatly_ ) appreciated (now more than ever). Constructive criticism is bearable, but flames are not.


	4. Time

Hey, everyone! So, winter break is officially here - which means _more writing time!_ Yay! As of late, I've been trying to get adjusted to writing life after getting hurtled through all of this school/studying/life issues stuff. But hey, since it's time for nothing but relaxation, I'm hoping to make the most of all of this time.

As for this chapter, it was inspired by the song _Drive_ (if any of you are interested). Enjoy!

* * *

 _Badlands four._

 _Time_

 _("it's so simple but we can't stay")_

He survived all kinds of risky situations – the walking dead, getting held captive, explosions ( _in space_ ), and flying with his former Padawan…

 _This_ was probably the most dangerous situation of all.

"I'm safe," Satine was saying, sitting in front of her bed. She looked tired – she always seemed to, these days – but right now, sitting in nothing but her nightgown, face completely clean of makeup, and curls falling to her shoulders, Satine looked like she wanted nothing more than sleep.

And Obi-Wan, frankly, wanted to do the same. This day wasn't exactly as tiring as other days – in fact, today had been a bit mild, all things considered – but still, there was something especially… _emotionally_ draining about the most recent events.

"You are," Obi-Wan managed to reply. He was hovering right in front of the doors, where anyone could walk in any minute. (Or maybe no one would. Satine had made it clear to her guards that she only wanted rest for now. Obi-Wan was only here for formalities – and to make sure that there weren't any other threats hiding on the ship. More specifically, her chambers.)

"We'll be on Coruscant soon," Obi-Wan told Satine. "You should get some rest."

"I will," Satine said, rubbing a hand over her weary eyes. "Although I might need this time to…think."

"Of course," Obi-Wan murmured, turning on his heel. His hand was just about to press the button for the doors when Satine called out, "Actually, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes?" Obi-Wan turned around.

Satine almost looked embarrassed. She pushed herself off her bed, saying quietly, "Would you…perhaps mind staying a little longer?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. He shot a wary look at the door again – and then turned to Satine, who remained as still as ever. Her fingers twitched over the sleeves of her nightgown – but besides that, that was the only movement. Her eyes flitting downwards, she said, "I'm sure you have other things to tend to – please forget I –"

"No – I – Satine," Obi-Wan paused. He let his own words sink over him, trying to control the arising embarrassment in his chest.

 _Out of all the times for his words to fail him…_

"Of course, I can stay," Obi-Wan heard himself say at last. "It's no trouble." He took a full second to remain in front of the doors – and then his feet were pulling him towards Satine, his steps light and careful.

"It's been a long day – it's been a long _night_ ," Satine murmured, shaking her head. "And here I was, thinking that it'd be the journey to Coruscant that'd be peaceful."

"You were able to defend yourself. You had the deactivator, didn't you?" Obi-Wan pointed out.

Satine's lips quirked into a small smile. "I suppose so," she agreed. "Though I still wish –"

"The trip had been as peaceful as you thought it'd be."

"Yes."

The two lapsed back into silence. Obi-Wan tried his best not to look at Satine directly in the eyes – tried to make sure he was a comfortable distance away from her. Made sure that even the side of his legs wouldn't accidentally brush against Satine. It was clear why.

It wasn't fair.

Obi-Wan had thought it'd be the last time he would see Satine. He thought – not for the first time – that she'd die, and he'd be the reason for it.

Satine, to Obi-Wan's relief (or maybe confusion?), didn't seem to want to make any other advancements, either. She, too, flicked even the slightest bit of wayward fabric from her nightgown away from Obi-Wan, as though even the cloth might create offensive tension.

"Obi-Wan –"

"Satine –"

Obi-Wan tried for a smile. It faltered.

"You first," he managed to say.

"Well," Satine looked down. Her eyes were on Obi-Wan's hands. Or maybe it was directed at the floor. Obi-Wan couldn't think properly – all of his thoughts were blurring together, creating some unknown cloud in his mind…he couldn't bring together a coherent, sensible image in his mind. It was only Satine's voice that seemed to cut through the fog. "I understand you might not…particularly look back at…the particular moment that – happened between us…before."

"Ah." Obi-Wan murmured. He was staring at Satine's hands now. Or maybe he was looking at the floor. He couldn't tell for himself. Satine's hands were slim – slim and pale. Still, there remained a few bumps on the tips of her fingers – a few roughed-over callouses from possibly holding a deactivator so tightly. Such would be typical for someone who refused to use weapons…

"Obi-Wan?"

"Satine," Obi-Wan lifted his eyes only a little bit, so that Satine would know he was looking at her – but not _directly_ at her. "What I said before – I…" He felt his mouth go dry. _Dammit,_ why now? _Why_ , out of all of the times he needed his words, why did they have to leave him _now?_

"You want to ignore that ever happened." Satine's voice was quiet.

"What? No, Satine – you can't – I mean, that's not –"

"Obi-Wan," Satine sighed tiredly, "I know you. And I know you would rather pretend that _that_ never happened between us at all."

"That's not – I'm not –"

"And it's fine," Satine replied, her words growing softer and softer. "We both have our responsibilities. What happened when we were younger will remain that way – in the past. It won't become anything else." With each word Satine said, Obi-Wan felt his heart sinking lower and lower. There was something in his mind urging him to leave the room _now_ – make up an excuse – tell Satine that this would be a good time for him to leave…

" _I don't know_."

Three words.

That's all it took.

Three words of ultimate confession – three words of defeat – three words of giving in.

"You don't know?" Satine asked, confused.

"I don't know." Obi-Wan repeated. He turned his face away from Satine. "I don't know what we're supposed to do with _that_ now. It…obviously _happened_ , and what you said was right – we can't expect ourselves to live…differently because of that." He swallowed. He closed his eyes briefly. His head was starting to ache – maybe it was the strain of the whole day, or maybe it was because the voice in his head was starting to grow louder – starting to become more insistent.

"We'll still be a little different, I would think," Satine murmured. "But it'll remain…to be something that…will be at least pushed away from us for now." Obi-Wan felt Satine's hand fall over his wrist – it was a tentative, almost shy touch – one that was meant to last only for a second.

Obi-Wan let a soft sigh slip from his lips. " _Satine…_ "

"We have our own duties," Satine was saying. "And our own homes to look after. This was – just something that we didn't see coming. And it'll stay that way." She started to lift her hand from Obi-Wan's wrist, the pressure of her fingers lessening –

Obi-Wan turned around. Satine was staring down at the floor, a blonde curl falling over the side of her cheek.

"Satine," Obi-Wan repeated. He moved forward only a little bit, each movement slow and full of confused intentions. He could see an odd kind of wetness in Satine's eyes – and then, gently, Obi-Wan cupped a hand underneath Satine's chin.

"Obi-Wan," Satine whispered, not looking at him. "You should leave."

Obi-Wan couldn't breathe. He felt like if he did, everything would vanish before him.

"Is that what you want?" he asked quietly. "Because I will if you want me to."

There was a beat of silence.

And then, Satine was turning to him, eyes wide.

"No," she breathed. "I don't want you to leave right now. Do you?"

"No." The word came out faster than Obi-Wan expected – but it came out so easily…so effortlessly – as though he had been holding it in this whole time. Maybe he had.

Maybe he still was.

Satine's hands curled around Obi-Wan's shoulders, and then he was moving towards her before he knew what was happening.

Their lips collided against each other. Satine propped herself up on her knees, cupping her hands over Obi-Wan's cheeks and her lips taking him in – burning up his face – he was pushing his hands up her waist, his chest filled with something too tight and too loose at the same time.

"Just for now," Satine was whispering. "And then…we forget."

It seemed like a cruel twist on their ends – but Obi-Wan nodded. He wished they had more time – he wished this one moment could last longer –

But as Obi-Wan pulled Satine towards himself again, he realized two things –

 _One. He had meant every word of what he had said before._

 _Two. They had run out of time the minute Obi-Wan decided to leave Satine when she became duchess._

* * *

 **A/N -** I don't know. It's been a while since I've last written Obitine, and I always thought this fit. (Because in TCW, there's always this secrecy/running out of time to be happy vibe between couples. So. There's that.)

As always, reviews would be wonderful! Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not!


	5. Solace

_Guess who's sick? I am!_ Thankfully, I have a day off of school tomorrow, but I'm not feeling it right now. I came home from a track meet - and I took a nap. And now, just a few hours later, my throat's hurting and I can't feel anything in my stomach and _agh,_ this isn't going well for me right now.

But guess who somehow managed to scrape together a chapter? _Me!_ Enjoy!

* * *

 _Badlands five._

 _Solace_

 _("don't belong to no city")_

"Barriss," Luminara said softly from the bunk beside her. "You're troubled. You're not sleeping."

Barriss Offee stared up at the center of the tent. She could see the glimmer of stars from the little holes accidentally punctured in the cloth of the tent. Of course, this fabric was old – and somewhat dirty, even though both Luminara and Barriss had done their best to clean it up at least a little bit. If Barriss concentrated hard enough, she could pretend she was in a different world, completely far away from the wars and the constant battles and strategies.

"Barriss?" Luminara's voice broke through the darkness again.

"Apologies, Master," Barriss replied, closing her eyes. The stars were gone from her vision – but they still remained to dance under her eyelids. The little universe remained alive in her mind. Remained alive under her eyelids – remained alive in her dreams and in her mind. "I'm only tired - so tired that I don't think it's going to be easy for me to sleep."

Luminara sighed. "You've been having trouble sleeping, haven't you? Especially as of late."

Barriss stiffened. She clasped and unclasped her hands on top of her stomach, forcing her voice to remain casual as she asked, "What makes you say that?"

"You've become generally more irritable during our training sessions," Luminara responded. "You used to be so incredibly patient with yourself – and just the other day, you looked more aggravated than I had ever seen you."

 _Ah._ Barriss remembered that. She had been going through a light saber duel with her master – and unsurprisingly, Luminara had gotten the upper hand yet again. Barriss was used to this – only on some days could she ever fully match up to her master's skills. Only on that particular day, Barriss had been distracted. The nightmares and the panic was getting to her again – had attacked her right in the middle of the duel – and in the end, Barriss ended up losing her rhythm yet again.

"These are stressful times," Barriss decided to say. "I believe it's only now beginning to create a bigger impact on my life."

Luminara's voice softened. "Well, the war can get to even the calmest and sensible of minds."

At her words, Barriss felt a brief flash of pride. Luminara so rarely gave compliments in private. Most of the time, Luminara would praise Barriss in the company of Master Skywalker and Ahsoka – but those never counted, because they were never _really_ directed at Barriss. Rather, during those times, Luminara recounted Barriss' skill-set like a plan – like Barriss was another weapon or handy blueprint that could bring the battle to victory. It made Barriss feel a bit…less like herself. More like a machine. More like an actual _soldier._

 _Force,_ did Barriss _hate_ that word.

 _Soldier._

That was the one thing Barriss had promised herself to _never_ become.

And yet…here she was, sleeping in a semi-dirty tent on a corrupted planet with other soldiers in different tents all around her. They'd get up early tomorrow morning, and then the rest of the day would be filled with the booming of cannons and the smell of human blood. It would make Barriss' head ache for the rest of the day – maybe even for the rest of the week, if she didn't take a proper shower.

She knew Ahsoka didn't mind it so much – if anything, Barriss had the odd feeling that Ahsoka actually secretly _liked_ being called a soldier. Even Master Kenobi – distinguished, calm Master Kenobi – never seemed to be too bothered by the fact that the Jedi were becoming more warrior-like. The only other Jedi Barriss actually knew _did_ have some annoyance with the Jedi-to-warrior transition was Master Windu, but _he_ was much too important and busy for Barriss to talk to him about her own opinions.

And Barriss couldn't bring herself to tell Luminara about it.

It wasn't that she didn't trust her master – her master was, perhaps, one of her closest friends – but still. Barriss wasn't too sure what her master's stance on the Jedi-to-warrior transition was, either, and she certainly wasn't prepared to hear the disappointing answer in this situation.

Barriss would no longer belong. Not that she belonged in the Jedi Order, anyways. Ever since last year, she had come to a silent promise to herself – she would find a way out. Maybe she could persuade Ahsoka into joining her – and maybe the two would find a separate life from the toxic environment of the Order…

That was a nice thought. Though again, Barriss had the feeling Ahsoka wouldn't take this lightly.

"Your soul has become restless," Luminara continued.

And just like that, the warmth Barriss had felt over the compliment cooled, leaving behind only a vapor of disappointment.

"Your soul has become restless," Luminara repeated. "You've lost focus on the important things – you are out-of-touch with yourself, and I sense an imbalance in your thoughts, Padawan."

"I'm tired," Barriss murmured. "My mind is clouded by my lack of sleep."

Luminara laughed again, though this time, Barriss couldn't bring herself to smile or laugh along. Instead, she felt a small flicker of annoyance.

"We could always discuss this when we get back to the Temple," Luminara suggested after a certain length of silence passed. "You know I am always willing to listen, Barriss."

"Yes, Master," Barriss replied, closing her eyes.

She re-opened them. "Actually," she murmured, throwing away the blankets, "I think I'll take a walk around the campground for now."

"Don't stay out too long," Luminara called after her. "I wouldn't want you to be tired for tomorrow."

"Fear not, Master Unduli," Barriss murmured, and stepped out of the tent.

She was instantly greeted by a warm rush of wind. It rustled past her dark, heavy robes and sank into her skin. Barriss let out a small sigh. She pushed past the wet grass, savoring the way the dew pressed against her feet. She had forgotten to wear her shoes for this trip outside – but it didn't matter.

It wasn't until Barriss was a good few feet away from the camp did she feel like she could actually breathe.

She sat down on a tree branch, her eyes closed and head tilted back ever-so-slightly.

 _Alone at last._

This was how it was. This was how it was supposed to be.

Barriss Offee knew from the bottom of her heart that in the end, she'd have to depend on herself. She couldn't believe that Master Unduli would be willing to listen.

She was by herself for now, and she'd only have to wait a little longer before her solace lasts forever.

Just as she always wanted.

* * *

 **A/N -** Because I think the last time I ever wrote about Barriss was in _A Hundred Words..._ (?) And I thought it'd be interesting to re-visit her character.

As always, reviews would be great - they always make me smile and of course, more reviews means more motivation to write. Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not.


	6. Direction

_Hello?_ Is there anyone still reading this story, or nah? Because honestly, I can't quite tell anymore. I'm sorry for not updating sooner - things have gotten hectic and out of control again, mostly because as of just a while ago, I got my first-ever part-time job! With that on top of studies and extra activities, my life has been nothing but peaceful as of late. Still, I'm trying to soldier on and keep up with writing.

Again, sorry for the wait - enjoy!

* * *

 _Badlands six._

 _Direction_

 _("feet first, don't fall")_

Katooni was running.

Feet slapping the ground, thought swimming in her mind in an endless whirlpool, her breaths coming out short and desperate. She couldn't see anyone running in front of her now. Her friends were far away from her – much farther, probably a whole mile away.

She was too slow.

She could run for miles, probably – miles on top of miles on top of miles – but she wasn't fast. Her legs didn't go at the proper speed. Her heart couldn't keep up with the thundering steps of the others. Her eyes were focused on her feet, her arms feeling weak and heavy from swinging so hard.

Katooni tried to remember why she was there.

A practice mission – or a drill. Definitely a drill.

She wasn't alone. There were other creatures on this hot planet, probably watching Katooni run through the caverns with hungry and gleaming eyes. They were probably waiting for her to stop running – and then they would pounce, tearing at her throat and her limbs and –

Katooni shuddered, trying to force the image out of her mind.

She flicked her eyes up to the dark caves around her. There wasn't anything in those caves – there were only shadows and dust and nothing but the mindless fears of younglings.

The drill was simple – run at least five miles through the caverns and get it done _fast._ Katooni had been naïve. She thought this would be simple for her – she thought she could probably go through the whole length without stopping even once.

And that much was true.

But everyone else was so much stronger. And so much faster.

Ganodi had tried to keep up with Katooni at first. "You'll be fine," she had told her before the race began. "And we'll run together."

Katooni had actually believed her friend – only later, she realized that Ganodi was much faster than she had originally let on…and though Katooni tried to keep up with Ganodi, she had no choice but to fall back. Ganodi, caught up in her own little victory, hadn't even looked back once.

Zatt, as quiet and as tech-savvy as he was, didn't seem to rely on anything when he started running. He didn't wear any shoes – he never seemed to – and didn't seem at all bothered by the length they were running. He sprinted full speed ahead, practically neck and neck with Petro, who only smirked at Katooni when he passed her.

Even Byph, who Katooni had figured would be the slowest, ran faster than her. He was the most nervous about what was in the caverns – but when given the signal, he sped in front of her, driven by his own fears. Katooni had the feeling he was just desperate to get the race over with.

The only person who actually stuck by Katooni who was Gungi. Katooni felt a great surge of affection and gratefulness for the Wookie, who stayed and paced himself with Katooni for the first few miles.

And then Katooni realized she was dragging him down – and if it weren't for her, he would have been finished a whole twenty or so minutes ago. Maybe even longer – because while Katooni was panting and dragging her feet down, Gungi was absolutely stoic and his breathing was still at a normal, regular pace. (Almost as though Gungi was walking.)

After coming to that realization, Katooni told Gungi to go run ahead. Gungi had protested at first, saying something about having to stick together – but Katooni was insistent. "Really," she said in between breaths, "it's fine. Go ahead. I'll meet you on the other side."

Gungi had looked confused – and a bit reluctant, but he did what Katooni asked. He ran ahead, and as Katooni watched his retreating figure, she almost regretted her decision.

Now she was truly alone, Gungi and the others completely out of sight.

The sun was setting over the horizon. The sky was pink and red, lighting up the landscape and casting greater, longer shadows over the caverns. Katooni kept her eyes focused on the sky, tilting her head back so she could get in more oxygen.

 _The sky's so pretty,_ she thought to herself, trying to veer her attention away from her exhaustion. _The sky's so pretty – the sky's so pretty – the sky's so pretty. (I need water. I want to stop. I really, really need to stop.) The sky's so pretty – the sky's so pretty – the sky's so…_

Katooni felt every nerve scream as she crashed into something. Green and yellow spots flashed from under her eyelids as she tumbled back to the sand, every part of her sore and pricked with pain. Katooni let out a quick gasp, staring up at the ever-darkening sky. She tasted blood in her mouth – whether it was from her crash or from running for so long, she couldn't tell.

Katooni lifted her head to see what she had crashed into – and only caught a glimpse of a cavern wall before dizziness took over her once more.

Katooni's head smacked against the ground – though she couldn't tell if the ground was hard or not at this point. Her body was growing numb, her heart feeling as though it was about to explode from her chest. She lay there for a while, heaving in and out what little air she felt she had left to herself.

"I can walk back," Katooni whispered out loud. She licked her dry lips. She vaguely remembered being told that wetting her own mouth would make her thirstier, but she couldn't help it. Her head wasn't clear enough to make any sensible decisions.

After a few more minutes of doing nothing but self-pitying herself, Katooni pushed herself up to her feet. Immediately, she crashed against the cavern again, only this time by her side first. An ache was in her head – her legs and arms were trembling. Her stomach hurt – her abs were tight and her shoulders were stiff.

 _You must keep running,_ Katooni thought to herself, gritting her teeth. She took a few steps forward. _Keep running…_

But where was she supposed to go?

Katooni stopped short in her tracks. She turned around – she was so, so far from her starting point…and then she turned back around. She still couldn't see the finish line. She couldn't see any markers that would tell her where to go.

 _Where was she supposed to go?_

As quick and as sneaky as a viper, panic closed itself around Katooni's throat. She choked on her own saliva, her hand reaching up to wipe at her lips. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move.

She was completely lost.

 _Where was she supposed to go? Where was she supposed to go? Where was she supposed to –_

Katooni stumbled forward. One foot in front of the other – one foot in front of the other – one foot in front of the other…

She lost track of time. The sun sank well below the horizon. The air cooled. The sweat from Katooni evaporated into the night. And still, she felt tacky and sticky with her own self-doubt and panic.

She didn't even know if she was going the right way. She didn't even know where she was going.

Just that she needed to keep walking, even if it was in the wrong direction.

She trudged forward, her boots feeling worn and blisters coming and popping in her feet. She didn't know how she was supposed to keep this up – she would fall down on the sand, and then she'd be completely forgotten about until morning, when her body might burn and…

" _Katooni!_ "

Katooni jerked her head up, eyes wide.

Her friends were standing in the distance, arms waving frantically. They were screaming something else – something unintelligible – something –

" _Come on! You're almost here!_ "

Katooni turned around. She saw the sand she had walked through – her footsteps were little ghosts, disappearing as they had came.

" _Katooni!_ "

Katooni turned back around. Her friends were still waving their arms, still waiting for her.

She heaved in a breath. She dug her feet into the sand – counted her breaths –

And sprinted forward.

And ran and ran and ran and ran –

Until she was tumbling into her friends' arms, screaming and crying and her words stumbling over each other. (Like her feet.)

* * *

 **A/N -** (Fitting, seeing that track season has just ended.)

As always, reviews would be great, especially since it's been so long since I've heard too much from anyone. Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not.


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